


What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.

by queen_of_shanath



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Post-Mount Massive Asylum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_shanath/pseuds/queen_of_shanath
Summary: What happened to Waylon after Mount Massive?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madame_Tentacle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Tentacle/gifts).



**What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.**

**Murkoff had taken everything from him. His home. His normal, secure life. His family. But most importantly, they took his dignity.**

**Even several months after the “Mount Massive Outbreak”, as the newspapers called it, Waylon was still suffering. He was alone, on the run. His family? He had abandoned them. Left his wife his savings account and told her to move to Europe. Start a new life in Ireland or Scotland. Buy a few sheep and make sure you never be cold in your life again.**

**Waylon collected what little money he had left and ran. His first stop was somewhere in Idaho. Then Washington, with a plane and a fake passport to Kentucky, North Carolina, until his feet were calloused and sore from the running he had to do for the rest of his life.**

**On his way, he met many new people. An old lady who thankfully took him in when his car broke down one night in Texas. He slept on her couch, and never woke her up despite his scream filled nightmares. Sometimes, not being able to hear well was a pleasure - or did she just decide to hear what she wanted?**

**Since he had fled Mount Massive, Waylon always slept with his shoes on. If he took them off, he was able to feel the phantom pain of guts and blood splashing under his toes. He even had to wear them in the shower. Only this way the water wouldn’t make him sob and scream in pure agony.**

**All he had left was his laptop, his prepaid phone and a grudge against Murkoff and everyone who wronged him. But a year into running from an invisible enemy, Waylon became tired. He woke up every morning, wondering if today would be his last day on this damn earth.**

**Waylon wasn’t proud of who he had become. The scar riddled face was only a mask of the man he used to be. His hair had grown long, a weak attempt to hide his face from the outside, but mostly just from himself and his bad thoughts. Dark rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol in his breath. He couldn’t continue like this.**

**One morning, Waylon had an idea. He packed his few things, checked out of the motel room he stayed in for the past few days. He hotwired a random car and headed into the north. To be exact, to Colorado, into the Lake District. He stopped his car about five miles away from Mount Massive.**

**Waylon wanted to hide in plain sight. Because who would think the Whistleblower was hiding in Mount Massive?**

**He cracked the door open, and everything inside was abandoned. The bodies and the gore had been cleaned off the walls and floors, but the eerie feeling of death was lingering in the air.**

**Waylon dropped his things into the male ward, where he knew a few beds where. And for a moment he swore he was able to see a man in a brown coat.**

**Give a man a fire and he's warm for the day. But set fire to his house and he's on the run for the rest of his life.**


End file.
